Firefly Rarities, Explanations & Other Little Gems
by primarycolors
Summary: Sideshots and Outtakes from Firefly in Summer. All characters. All ratings apply.
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you so much for all your prayers and well wishes for the state of Alabama. We'll need them for a while, so keep them coming...**

**I wrote this because while Firefly in Summer makes perfect sense in my little head, some of you have questions, blank spots, WTF moments... you know what I mean. While these little one-shot chapters may not answer all your questions, and in fact may raise more... I think at the very least they'll get you thinking.**

**These are not beta'd. Please forgive any glaring errors.**

* * *

><p><em>Emmett.<em>

_The Party._

"Edward, get off the damn phone and tell me how to work this thing." Emmett's large fingers scrolled through the options on the camera's touch screen again, but he couldn't figure out how to turn the flash on. He'd taken some pictures earlier but the light was really low, and he wanted to make sure the next picture he snapped was a good one. He turned it over and over in his hands._His_camera had a little switch on the top for the flash. Every camera should be that easy.

"Hold on, hold on… no really… hold _on_," Edward rolled his eyes and grinned. "She loves me, what can I say?" he said to Emmett in a stage whisper.

"Come on, man." Emmett wanted to grab Edward's phone and throw it in the lake. "The hot chick I've been talking to went to the bathroom for just a second. I want a picture with her when she gets back."

"Fine, fine. Keep your panties on, big guy," Edward laughed as he brought the phone back up to his ear. "Hey, baby. I gotta help Em out with the camera. I'll call you back. I will, I promise… oh yeah? Yeah? You'll miss me that much, huh?"

Emmett sighed when Edward's eyes widened at whatever Tanya was saying over the phone. He glanced over at the bathroom again, impatient. Rosalie's sister came out and started chatting with Leah. She was a cute little girl… he thought Rose might have said her name was Bella when she pointed her out across the room. Edward probably wouldn't mind hooking up with her if he ever got his head out of his ass.

"Fuck _me_… take a picture of that and send it to me, okay?" Edward squeaked. He looked over at Emmett, holding the phone away, mouthing, _you're not gonna believe this girl…_

Emmett made a swipe at the phone and Edward ducked, laughing, stumbling. "Holy shit, I've had too much to drink. Tanya, _baby_, get it on and I'll call you back in a minute. Okay… _okay_… bye." He snapped the phone shut. "Yeah, fuck off Em. So she's a little clingy. She's hot. She is fucking _hot_, man. Did you hear what she's doing right _now_ while-"

"I'm happy for you E— but for fuck's sake explain this piece of shit camera of yours, please. I just want the damn flash on."

Edward grabbed it from him and pushed one button and handed it back, smirking.

"Thanks," Emmett muttered. Evidentially he was an idiot.

"No prob," Edward said as he shook out a cigarette, scanning the room. "Hey, Seth! Come over here- Em wants a picture of you to keep by his bed when he gets lonely at night." Edward had been introduced to Seth an hour ago and already they were best friends.

Emmett took one last glance at the bathroom door and sighed as Seth ambled over. Seth was a good kid, and good on the field too. He redshirted last year, so he should see some playing time this season, God willing. He slapped him lightly on the back. "How's it going, kid? Where the fuck is Garrett? I had plans for him tonight and he disappeared."

"Yeah, I don't know where he went. He better not leave me though; he was my ride. He saw somebody he knew, I think," Seth shrugged awkwardly, still a little star struck at Emmett McCarty, All-American. "But I'm good. Awesome party, huh."

Emmett made non-committal noises and drank more of his beer while Edward talked up some girl in a pink shirt. There was something about Edward… he'd never been without a girl, as long as Emmett had known him. Whatever… more power to him, and all that shit. Rosalie was worth a hundred of E's conquests, he could tell that after only talking to her for 20 minutes. He wanted to kick himself for letting Rose follow her little sister into the bathroom without getting her number… or even her last name. He was itching to go look for her but she'd asked him to stay put, so that was exactly what he was going to do.

"Turn around, _Heisman_, and smile for the pretty lady," Edward grinned, and threw his arm around Seth's shoulders.

"Aw, now, don't start that shit," Emmett laughed, a little bashful. He shook it off and smiled widely for the pink-shirt girl, now holding E's camera like it was pure gold. She looked as if she was plotting to hide it in her bra just so he'd have to go after it.

One last glance at that damned bathroom door. He supposed Rose would come out when she was ready. His ego was stung a bit, to tell the truth. It'd been years since a girl had blown him off.

The flash popped bright and they all blinked.

"Hey, don't walk off with that camera," Emmett called halfheartedly, rubbing his eyes. He downed the rest of his beer and rolled his shoulders. Damn it. She'd blown him off. Well, fuck. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that. Too bad. Rose was the kind of girl he would've loved to keep. The kind of girl that would have kept him guessing… would have kept him on his toes.

After ten minutes of shooting the shit with Seth and watching fucking bleary-eyed Edward talk on his fucking phone, Emmett was ready go, just looking for a reason to dump this party. And then his reason stumbled in, white as a fucking bed sheet.

"Holeee shit, Garrett! What in the hell happened to you?" Seth hooted. "You just got sick like a little girl didn't you?" He grabbed his teammate arm, wrinkling his nose. "You smell, dude."

"Let's go. Now." Garrett's eyes darted around the room. Emmett frowned. The guy smelled like he'd just barfed all over himself but he was stone cold sober. And spooked.

"What's up?" Emmett said quietly. He felt a responsibility toward these guys, his younger teammates. There had been a couple of guys who'd looked after him when he was starting out; he was just returning the favor. "You in trouble?"

"Em, you know anything about Royce King?" Garrett glanced at him, eyes panicked, like a rabbit's.

"Naw, man. Can't say that I do."

"Let's just say he's a motherfucking psychopath. I really wanna get out of here, okay?"

Goosebumps crawled over Emmett as he looked around again for Rose. Where the fuck had she gone? Something wasn't right about this. How was it that he felt so protective of her? He'd only known her twenty minutes.

"Hang on a minute, there's somebody I need to find," he muttered, starting for the back door that would lead outside, down to the lake. Maybe she'd slipped out the door and he hadn't noticed.

"No, come on. The cops are on their way," Garrett pleaded, "I'm sure of it."

Em stopped and sighed, torn right down the middle. He and the guys had to show up for practice next week. If something illegal was going down, the last thing he needed was to get mixed up in the middle of it. It'd be all over the media, even if he weren't involved. Coach would absolutely kill him. "You gonna tell me what happened?"

"I ain't talking man. You're better off not knowing, believe me. Come on." Garrett had already turned away, with Seth right behind him.

"Alright." Em nodded and pushed Edward toward the front door, pulling his keys out. Edward was still on the phone, damn him.

* * *

><p>Years later, Emmett would lie awake at night, stretched out on a bunk designed for one, his big hands laced behind his head. He still wore a uniform everyday, only this time it was state issued. He'd stare at the ceiling and wonder where his life went wrong. He hadn't realized it but he'd been searching for <em>her<em>, for golden-haired Rosalie, everywhere he went after that one night at the lake house party. He'd look up in the stands, thinking she'd be there, because she'd told him she wanted to transfer to Florida. He'd look at his growing bank account, wishing he knew where she was so he could buy her something pretty… flashy… sparkly. He didn't even know what kind of things she'd like… but if he ever found her, he'd make it his business to know. At the club that night, the night he'd killed those people, still… he'd looked for her there before he'd gotten into the car.

He was an idiot. A monster. Searching for some elusive _something_, that probably didn't even exist in the first place. He deserved this, where he was… this punishment. It didn't matter that he was never much of a drinker. He'd been a drinker on the night it mattered most. He should have never gotten back in his car with the keys in his hand.

He hoped Rose was happy, wherever she was. He could stop looking for her now. A murderer like him didn't deserve any chance at happiness. There wasn't much he was sure about these days, but he was sure about that.


	2. Birdy

_**_**This was written for Fandom4SAA  
><strong>_**_

_**_**This Firefly in Summer outtake is an alternate POV covering from before Edward comes to Summerside, all the way through chapter 15.**_**_

_**This is told from the POV of Birdy, a precocious nine-year-old girl. She helps her dad run the art store/restaurant in Bay Breeze where Bella buys her art supplies. Birdy is not a character in Firefly in Summer, but Bella and Edward do indeed drive to Bay Breeze the day after Christmas to have lunch and for Bella to pick up a few things.**_

_**There's also a reference to Bella having the flu, as evidenced in chapter 7 of Firefly in Summer.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Twilight**_

****Much love and many, many thanks to my red pen friends les16 and faireyfan, for primping Birdy in the eleventh hour, and for loving her as much as I do.****

* * *

><p>Daddy had always told me it weren't right to watch the customers so close. But I never meant no harm, really. It's just that she was <em>so<em> beautiful, with her long brown hair that glowed red in the sunshine. One time, when Daddy let me put the paints in her bag (she always brought her own, 'cause of saving the 'vironment and all) she asked for an extra peppermint from the bowl on the counter. I didn't even ask Daddy, I just gave her one, 'cause I was in charge of that; it was my job to fill it back up when the bowl got low.

"Birdy," she'd say in her soft voice, "I just love your blue hair ribbon. It makes your eyes look so pretty."

I'd smiled so big I swear I could hear my cheeks squeak. "Thank you, Miss Bella." I felt like dropping a curtsy, like they did in my Ella Enchanted book, but I didn't, not with Daddy standing right there. He would've teased me about it later. Curtsying would've been pretty silly I guess, but somehow I thought Miss Bella would understand.

Miss Bella was from Summerside, a whole thirty minutes from Bay Breeze, and a lot smaller. We had all sorts of things Summerside didn't have… a Wal-Mart, and a movie theater… even a Krispy Kreme doughnut store, where they made the doughnuts right in front of you! But she said she liked it there in Summerside, 'cause it was quiet.

So I'd always carry the bag to her bike and make sure it was tucked into the basket, before I watched her start the long ride back home. She could be very mysterious, my Miss Bella. _Mysterious_ is a word they use a lot in my Nancy Drew books.

"Miss Bella? Why d'you always paint your toenails but never your fingernails?" Her toes were always bright and colorful, red and hot pink, and one time blue glitter. She squatted down right there in the gravel parking lot so we could look eye-to-eye, woman to woman.

She held out her hands.

"Well Birdy, remember what I do?"

"Yes'm. You're a painter."

She nodded, all serious. "The kind of paint remover I use would take nail polish right off, just as quick as I could put it on. And really, you wouldn't believe how messy I can get… sometimes my hands get smothered all over with paint. My fingernails too."

"Oh," I breathed.

Then she looked around to make sure no one was listening, even though it was only us outside. She cupped her hand around my ear so she could whisper.

"I get worried that my toes feel left out, you know, because my fingers get to play in the paint so much."

"Ohhh, you take extra special care of them, so they won't get jealous." That was very smart of her, I thought. I bent down to study her feet. Hot pink toes and purple flip-flops. My favorite colors, I told her. She laughed and gave me a hug and said I was so clever.

Then Daddy holler'd at me to come fill up the ketchup bottles.

* * *

><p>Miss Bella came every month to our stores. And she always came by herself too, until that first time she didn't.<p>

"Daddy! There's a _boy_ with Miss Bella!"

"Hush up girl, and stop spying on the customers," Daddy yelled from the kitchen but I knew he was teasing. He sounded gruff to other people but he was really just a big ol' teddy bear.

I ran to open the door even though I don't usually do that. And I might have jingled the bells on the door a little extra, too.

"Hi, Miss Bellaaaa," I called out, all sneaky like, 'cause I was curious about the boy that drove her in his car. He was tall, with crazy hair and sunglasses, and he walked over to open the car door for her but she'd already done it for herself. I could tell he wanted to touch her but he ended up just shoving his hands in his pockets. He was like some kinda puppy dog, all sweet and hopeful under the dinner table.

"Hey sweetheart," Miss Bella gave me a squeeze when she came inside, "you ready for school to start back?"

"Yes ma'am! I got a book list to read over the summer and I already read 'em all."

"Good girl," she smiled real wide and gave me a high five and I felt lucky and tingly all over, like finding a quarter in my pocket that I didn't know was there. She was proud of me.

"You should go to the library," that tall boy said, from the candy aisle. He turned all the way 'round and watched Miss Bella walk to the back of the store where the canvases were.

I waited 'til he looked back at me. "'Course I go to the library," I said loudly. "Where do you think I get all my books?"

"Birdy…" Daddy warned me from the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't trying to be a smartass but I knew that sometimes I sounded like one.

That boy just grinned at me, though. He didn't care. "I meant for you to go get some more books."

"You should take your sunglasses off, you know, 'cause you're inside," I pointed out.

"Right," he said, and he pushed them up on top of his head. "That better?"

"Yessir."

"I remember your mama," he said suddenly, and he leaned back against the counter. "She had dark hair, just like you."

_Holy smokes!_

"I remember when you were just a baby," he kept talking. "How old are you now? Eight?"

"Nine." I lifted my chin at him. "I'm just short for my age. Twenty-fifth percentile."

He nodded at me. "This was her store."

"Yep," and I started my wind up, since I'd told this story a million times. "Daddy owns the Surf-n-Turf next door, and then they fell in love and had me. Then they knocked out the wall, and now it's the only restaurant – slash – crafts store in the country. Probably the _whole_ planet Earth."

He crossed his arms over his chest and sized me up, just like Gandalf did to Bilbo Baggins before the dwarves showed up. "Your mom used to give me a free licorice every time I came in here."

"Well, she wasn't s'posed to do that," I said slowly and squinted at him real hard. He had another thing coming if he thought I would give away the goods. "But I guess you can have a peppermint. They're free, at least."

He peered into the bowl and hummed.

"But only one to a customer!" I said quickly. Ooh, I could tell he was one of those boys you had to watch. "They're Miss Bella's favorite! She _always_ gets one… I gotta make sure there's some left 'cause I always give her extra." And then I blushed; 'cause I'd just told him I gave her extra while he could only have one.

That boy's eyebrows rose up real high and he grinned like it was Christmas morning or something. "No kidding," he said. And he scooped the rest of the peppermints from the bowl right into his pocket.

My breath caught and stuck in my throat from being so surprised that he would do something like that! While I was wondering if it was stealing if they were _free_ in the first place, he pushed a whole five dollars into my hand.

"But that's too much!" I said, whispering real loud.

"Shh," he laughed, looking over my shoulder. "Here she comes…"

My memaw would say that this boy was trouble with a capital T. And I think she'd be right.

He leaned over the counter on his elbows, watching me ring up Miss Bella's canvases.

"You ever hear of child labor laws, Birdy?" he said, right before Miss Bella popped him good on the arm.

"Be nice," she said sternly, even though she was laughing, and then she shoved him for good measure.

"I'm always nice," he grumbled at her, and I laughed. 'Cause right then he sounded like a puppy dog rolling over and begging for a scratch on the belly.

"Miss Bella," I said, "I'm truly sorry, but someone ate all my peppermints, so I ain't got any to give you." I looked real hard at the culprit but Miss Bella didn't catch on. Not even when he tugged my ponytail and waved bye, grinning, putting his finger over his lips to shush me up.

She frowned and looked in the bowl anyway. "Oh, that's okay Birdy. Maybe you can save a extra for me next time." She was back to smiling as she gathered her wallet.

The boy was already at the door carrying all her canvases. "Hey Swan, reach in my pocket for my keys. I got my hands full here," he said, and then he winked at me. I rolled my eyes back at him, like I'd seen Mrs. Roberts do when her husband made kissy faces at Candi, our waitress.

"What?" Miss Bella asked in a high squeaky voice and she got all flustered like I've never seen.

"Come on," he teased. "There isn't anything in there that's gonna bite you… much." And then he wiggled his hips at her, and I thought for sure she was gonna turn as red as a fire engine in July.

My Miss Bella might be shy and she might not talk real loud, but nobody can ever say she ain't brave. She grabbed the front of that boy's shirt, down by the hem and told him to hold still. And then she stuck her hand down his pocket so fast he made some kind of choking sound low in his throat. _And_ he almost dropped her canvases, too.

I could tell the second she realized he had a pocket full of my peppermints 'cause she got a little bit of the giggles. She tried hard to hold them in, biting her lip and all, but they spilled out and bubbled over, like Daddy's gumbo pot during football season.

"Edward…" she said, smiling, even though she said it like he was in trouble. "Can I have one?" she asked, as they walked out the door. I don't know why she even asked; she was already holding them all in her hands.

_Edward_, I thought. That's his name.

"Well, yeah," I heard him say, "they're _all_ for you." Like that was a silly question to ask in the first place.

I watched Edward put Miss Bella's canvases in the trunk of his car before he came 'round the side. Before he opened the door he looked down at his shirt, at the wrinkled part where she'd grabbed him. He rolled his shoulders, like he was trying to cut off the shiver that went through him, and he rubbed his stomach over that wrinkled place. Then he smiled to himself, a little crooked.

I don't know if I'll ever understand boys. Maybe I will next year when I'm ten. Or maybe eleven. Or maybe never.

* * *

><p>Mr. Edward was by himself next time I saw him. I'd been a new fourth grader for a few weeks now so I was glad he came by after three, after school was out.<p>

"Where's Miss Bella?" I asked, disappointed.

"Well, hello to you too, Birdy." Mr. Edward gave me a quick smile. He looked tired and kinda beat down. He wandered around the store with his hands in his pockets and I wondered if he was really seeing anything at all.

I followed him down the sticker aisle and gave him a licorice from the jar. He looked surprised but took it anyway, and chewed on the end.

"Thought you said you weren't supposed to give away the licorice," he said with that off-kilter smile of his.

I just shrugged.

"Miss Bella is sick, Birdy. Tell me what I can get her to make her feel better."

"Is she real sick?" I whispered, a little scared. "She's not dying is she?" I didn't like it when people got sick. That was how my mama died.

He laughed around his licorice, that silly red thing hanging outta his mouth like some kinda crazy lizard tongue. "Nah, she isn't going to die," he said, and tugged my ponytail. "She's over the worst of it, now. She had a nasty case of the flu."

"Oh," I said knowingly, but I didn't know, 'cause I'd never had the flu. Suddenly I wished I was like Madame Pomfrey, and could give Mr. Edward a magic potion to pour in Miss Bella's morning orange juice. I wouldn't even charge him anything. Not if it was for Miss Bella.

"Well," I said, "she's had her eye on those new color charcoal pencils. And she's always looking at these watercolor postcards here on the end of the aisle," I started walking and he followed behind me. "You know, the blank kind where you can paint anything? But she never buys them 'cause she said she didn't have nobody to mail them to."

Mr. Edward looked interested at that, and slid them off the hanger.

"She can mail one to _me_, if she wants," I said, hopeful.

"It's a deal," he nodded. And he grabbed the pencils too.

By the time I was finished with him, he had a little basket full of stuff that I knew Miss Bella would love. He even added a bag of peppermints on top.

"How do I know she hasn't already bought all this stuff over the internet or something?" Mr. Edward asked as he opened his wallet.

"She only orders paintbrushes from New York, New York, Mr. Edward. She said she buys everything else here 'cause she likes to support the local 'conomy."

"New York, huh? And you can just call me Edward, Birdy."

"Can't, Mr. Edward. It's against the rules."

"The rules? What rules?" He looked me right in the eyes, and I could tell he was about to laugh. Why was I always so funny to him?

I frowned to let him know I didn't like being funny all the time. "The rules, I don't know. Like I say 'Yes sir' and 'No sir'. That's just how it is for kids. You know?"

"Yeah," he said all serious-like. "I know. You're a good kid, Birdy."

"I reckon," I shrugged as I put everything in a brown paper bag. "You really should bring Miss Bella's reusable bag next time you come in."

"I will-"

"And give Miss Bella a hug and a kiss from me, 'kay? I hope she feels better."

He really grinned at that. "I might just try that, Birdy. You can be my excuse."

He pulled my ponytail again before he left. And I felt better, 'cause when he left he was whistling and didn't look so sad anymore.

* * *

><p>Mr. Edward and Miss Bella came in to eat right after Christmas. I was so excited. They hardly ever stayed to eat. They came in through the craft store door but as soon as they said they was hungry I seated them myself in my favorite booth. The one by the window that looked over the water.<p>

"Oh! Miss Bella! Guess what Santa brought! A whole set of Harry Potter, in hardback!" I was hopping around like a dummy but I didn't care, I knew she'd be excited for me. "I nearly peed in my pants when I saw them under the tree."

"Birdy, that's wonderful!" She hugged me tight and kissed me on the side of my face.

"You read that last one yet?" Mr. Edward asked and looked at our menu. I don't even know why, all we served was fried fish and shrimp, French fries and coleslaw.

"Duh," I gave a smirky grin just like his. "I was even at the midnight party at the bookstore."

"Birdy…" Daddy warned me from the kitchen. I swear, that man had ears like you wouldn't believe. I knew he didn't like me saying 'Duh.'

"Sorry, Daddy," I said quickly. "What can I getcha to drink?" I said, pulling my notepad out of my back pocket. I could probably remember what they ordered but I really didn't want to mess up.

"Where's the 'Turf' on this menu, Birdy?" Mr. Edward looked at me, all crafty-like. He pointed at the name of our restaurant. "Looks like you got a little false advertising going on here."

"Mr. Edward," I said, with every bit of dignity I could gather, "potatoes grow in the ground. And French fries are cut up and fried potatoes. That's where the 'Turf' comes in."

He grinned and winked at Miss Bella. "Fair enough," he said.

Miss Bella got up and said she wanted to go look around the store. "I'll have water with lemon, Birdy, and the shrimp and fries, okay?"

"Sure thing, Miss Bella." I watched her walk away, noticing that she looked skinnier than usual, and fidgety. I decided to tell Daddy to give her extra French fries.

"And for you, sir?" I asked Mr. Edward, all professional-like.

"I'll make it easy on you, Birdy. I'll have the same thing." I noticed Mr. Edward looked tired too. I didn't understand. Holidays were supposed to be restful.

I sat myself down in Miss Bella's empty seat and wrote out their order carefully, in cursive. Mr. Edward watched me write and then whispered to me.

"Birdy."

He didn't say anything else until I looked up.

"Can you keep a secret?"

I nodded, eyes wide. Well for _sure_ I could keep a secret!

Mr. Edward pulled a necklace out of his pocket. It was beautiful. All silvery sparkly.

I breathed in real deep. "Is that for Miss Bella?" I whispered. "Is that her Christmas present?"

"Yeah," he said in a low voice, and he looked down the way Miss Bella had gone, to make sure she wasn't coming back right then. "Do you think she'll like it?" He looked back at me, all worried, and I thought again how I'd never understand boys. How did he not see the way she looked at him? It was so obvious. And then I thought about Hermione and Ron, and how much she loved him and he could never believe it. Not 'til the end, anyway. Maybe he was like Ron. Without the red hair and the big family.

He tucked it back in his pocket, like it made him nervous to have it out where she might see and I smiled at him kinda giddy. "She's really gonna love it, Mr. Edward. Really. Like, _really_." I was trying my best to help him out. But people see what they want to see sometimes.

"I've got to find the right time to give it to her," he said.

"You will," I assured him as I got up. "I gotta go put your order in."

I watched them from my side of the store while they ate. Miss Bella seemed quiet, like she was thinking of something else. Things were strange between them, I could tell. Mr. Edward should just ask her what was wrong, and then she should just tell him so they could fix it. He would do anything for her, couldn't she see that? I swear, grownups made things hard on themselves.

He ate his French fries one at a time, with cocktail sauce instead of ketchup, slouched down in his seat. His legs were all sprawled into her space, under the table, fencing her in and I don't think she even knew it. Like he wanted to hold her tight in a hug but this was as close as she'd let him get. Suddenly I felt sorry for him, because he had such a pretty necklace in his pocket and I just knew today wasn't going to be the day.

* * *

><p>Miss Bella had painted me two whole postcards! I whooped and hollered when they came in the mailbox. The one with the red sailboat I had taped on the wall by my bed at home, and the one with the little girl walking on the beach was taped up here behind my counter. I wanted to ask Miss Bella if that girl was supposed to be me, because she had hair just like mine. I thought it was probably me. Probably.<p>

I was looking at that postcard when Mr. Edward came in for the last time. 'Course then, I didn't know it was the last time.

I was so excited! "Mr. Edward!" I shouted. It'd been a while since I'd seen either one of them, almost two months. That was the longest _ever_. I had so much to tell Miss Bella. I wanted to tell her how I read The Shining and it scared me so bad I stayed awake for two nights straight and Daddy got _so_ mad.

I grabbed a licorice from the jar and ran around the counter but my daddy was already wiping his hands on his apron, and coming out of the kitchen. I always wait when Daddy wants to talk to someone 'cause it's the polite thing to do. Even though I was _dying_ to see Mr. Edward. I wanted to know if he'd given Miss Bella the necklace. I bet he did. And I bet she loved it, too.

They shook hands and I noticed Mr. Edward had two paintings with him. He handed the big one to my daddy. It was of our two stores, well, one store now that the wall was gone, but I could tell that it was wonderful, and I knew Miss Bella had done it. She'd made our place beautiful. I could see the ocean in the corner, and there was a lady standing outside right by the door… and suddenly I got all teary, 'cause it was supposed to be my mama, I could tell, even from way back here at the counter.

Then my daddy hugged Mr. Edward hard, and thumped him on the back, like guys do sometimes. My daddy never hugs nobody, 'cept me. I started to feel funny. And confused.

I don't know why, but I felt like running away right then. I wanted to run until I could get under my covers and hide, and not have to talk to anybody. And then I thought of Harry, and how he was scared lots of times, but he never ran, not ever, because he was brave. So I told my legs to stay where they were and I watched Mr. Edward walk my way. He didn't look like his normal self though. His eyes were red and his face was all bristly.

He took the licorice from my hand and tucked it in the pocket of his t-shirt. I'd forgotten I was even holding it.

"This is for you, Birdy. Miss Bella painted it," he said, real soft. He held out the painting but I shook my head. I wouldn't even look at it. I didn't know what was going on but I just knew if I took that painting from Mr. Edward it meant something bad. Bad, bad, bad.

He laid it behind me on the counter and suddenly he was hugging me so tight I couldn't hardly breathe, but I hugged him back, 'cause I could tell he needed it.

"You be a good girl now, Birdy," he whispered in my ear, and then he kissed me on the forehead and put me back on the floor. He tugged my ponytail one last time before he walked away and out the door.

I still hadn't said anything as I watched him pull out of the parking lot in his car. Daddy locked the door and drew the shutters, even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. He flipped the sign to 'Closed' instead of 'Open.'

"What are you doing?" I asked. I hated how scared my voice sounded. I didn't want to sound like that so I cleared my throat. "Why are we closing?"

"Come on Birdy," my daddy sighed. He sounded tired and sad. "Let's go home."

"NO! What's going on?" I started to cry. "Why doesn't anyone ever tell me what's going on? I wanna know what's going on!" I screamed at him and stomped my foot but he didn't get mad. He gathered me up in a hug just like Mr. Edward did.

"Come on, Birdy," he said again, and he picked me up like he used to do when I was little. "I'll get you some ice cream. Here, I got your book. Let's go home."

"My painting!" I sobbed, and he let me pick it up from the counter. He held me in his arms and rocked me back and forth while I held it tight in my hand.

And then I buried my face in his neck and cried and cried, for why, I didn't know.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you to <strong>__**aylah50 & coldplaywhore for all the tremendous hard work to put this together.**_

_**Thank you to all the authors who contributed.**_

_**And thank you for reading, and if you donated, your support of this wonderful cause.**_

_Birdy's book references:_

_Ella Enchanted, by Gail Carson Levine_

_The Nancy Drew Mysteries, by Carolyn Keene_

_Gandalf and Bilbo are from The Hobbit, by JRR Tolkien_

_The Shining, by Stephen King_

_Madame Pomfrey, Harry, Hermione and Ron are all from The Harry Potter series, by JK Rowling_


	3. Lucky Number Seven

_**A/N Lucky Number Seven takes place during the summer Edward turns seven, in the universe of Firefly in Summer. Edward is used to spending summers with his mom and dad, visiting Uncle Peter in the small beachside town of Summerside. This is the first summer he's there by himself, and the first summer without his mom, who died the year before.**_

_**If you've read Firefly in Summer, you may recognize The Man on the Beach, the Little Mermaid Girl, and The Drawing. ;)**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Twilight**_

****Much love and many, many thanks to my red pen friends les16 and faireyfan, for reading through young Edward and mermaid girl at the last minute. Lemonade is on the house!****

* * *

><p><strong>Lucky Number Seven<strong>

"Know what, Uncle Pete? Sometimes…"

"What's that, buddy?"

"Sometimes I wish you were my dad."

Peter nodded at him but took his time replying. Edward had just fought tooth and nail to come down here but the last thing Peter wanted was to try and replace Carlisle. Losing your wife was something Peter wouldn't wish on anyone; it was an all-consuming grief that sometimes pushed everything else in life away until you got your head on straight. And even then, your head was never quite like it used to be.

Carlisle needed to come back to earth damn quick, because this little boy shouldn't go one more day without his father.

"I get that, kid, you know? I understand. But deep down in your heart," he tapped Edward's chest, "right there, you don't want that, even if you think you do, right now. You'll figure that out more and more as you get older."

"But he frowns all the time and I have to eat dinner with old Mrs. Harper." Edward said with a sour expression. "I don't think he loves me anymore."

"Who's Mrs. Harper? The maid?

"Yeah, the cooker-cleaner lady."

"Come here, kid." He pulled Edward on his lap, hugging the thin little body to his chest before looking him in the eye. "What are you now… fifteen?"

Edward snorted. "I just had my birthday Uncle Pete. Remember? You told me seven was lucky."

"Oh yeah… got it. Seven is definitely the best age to be." Peter took a deep breath. "Alright, here's the thing, Lucky. Your dad is one of the greatest people I know. He loved your mom so much, bigger than the ocean right outside that window, bigger than the sky. When she went to heaven, she took part of his heart with her."

"Did she take it so she could remember him in heaven?"

"Nah. She doesn't need anything to remember us. She sees you everyday, you know that? Watching you grow up, big and strong. Lemme see those muscles." Pete squeezed Edward's bicep and got a smile in return. "Your dad, he gave his heart to your mom all on his own when they fell in love. So she's had it for a long time."

"Is it hard for him to breathe with only part of a heart?" Edward's eyes were wide, worried.

"Yeah, sometimes I think it is. That doesn't mean he's sick or going to heaven anytime soon, so don't worry about that… he's just… trying to figure out how to get along without her."

"Mama took my heart too. Sometimes it's hard for me to breathe. When I think about her."

"Me too, buddy. You know what helps me breathe?"

Edward shook his head.

"It helps me to talk about her," Peter said, hoping he was saying the right things.

"Dad _never_ wants to talk about her," Edward whispered, the tears suddenly rolling down his cheeks. "It's like he wants to forget her. He works all the time, like he's pretending everything's the same and me and mom are just at home doing homework and watching TV and making spaghetti, waiting for him to come home," he took a deep breath, "but he never comes home, Uncle Pete. Because it's _not_ the same. Mrs. Harper never lets me watch Pokemon." He sniffed and dashed at his eyes, hating all the crying he'd done in the last few months. "And her spaghetti tastes like shit."

Peter burst out laughing before he managed to look stern. "Watch that mouth, boy," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "If you start talking like that your dad might think I'm teaching you those words."

"I don't care." Edward's chin lifted a fraction.

"Well, you might care if he doesn't let you come down here anymore."

"Sometimes I forget that she's gone," Edward said, voice like a secret. "One time, at Mack's birthday party, we played laser tag and they had one of those big balloons you can jump on, those are so awesome, and I didn't think about mom for almost the whole party and then when Mrs. Harper came to pick me up I remembered. And then I threw up all over the front porch 'cause I felt so bad that I forgot her. Mrs. Harper said I'd had too much cake but I didn't. I really didn't. I hardly ate any."

"Aw, Lucky. That sounds horrible. I'm sorry."

"S'okay," he shrugged. "Though I wish I'd thrown up all over Mrs. Harper instead of the porch."

"So you're a smartass now."

"Uncle Pete," Edward slapped a hand over his mouth, giggling. "You're teaching me bad words again."

"Did I ever tell you about the time your mama got her mouth washed out with soap for saying bad words?" Peter grinned.

Edward laughed. "No _way_. Mom never said stuff like that."

"Well, I got news for you, pipsqueak. She was a lot like you." Peter hugged him, amazed that the kid could be crying one minute, laughing the next. He carried him inside, and shut the backdoor with his foot.

"She was? Really?" Awe unfolded in Edward's chest, wanting, craving more.

"You'd better believe it," Peter laughed. They settled into the big leather chair together, propping their legs up on the ottoman. "Boy, I could talk for days about your mom."

* * *

><p>(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.· ·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)<p>

It was kind of an unspoken rule that if you weren't renting one of the houses, then you didn't use the beaches. Edward knew all the renters this week. They were regulars. So that's how he knew that the man and the little girl in the water didn't belong here.

"Uncle Pete, there's some strangers on the beach," he said darkly. "You want me to go tell them to leave?" Edward crossed his skinny arms over his chest. Rules were rules, after all.

Pete glanced up from inventory with a dubious look. "Now why you wanna be rude like that? They just had ice cream over at the Cope's store so they're just fine where they are, y'hear?"

"Well, I didn't know!" Edward scowled and glared out the window. "That little girl is almost a baby and that guy's letting her swim all by herself."

"Go on out there, Mr. Lifeguard, if you're so concerned."

Edward pretended to be picking up shells but he was really watching the little girl in the ocean. He casually made his way over the to the man.

"Is that girl your daughter or something?" He squinted at the man, almost eye to eye with him, since he was sitting and Edward was standing. "Aren't you afraid that… I don't know, I mean… I guess she's a good swimmer and stuff but… aren't you worried about her out there, all by herself?" When the man didn't reply right away Edward pursed his lips, following his gaze, "Well, I guess it's pretty calm out today."

"Oh, I've got my eye on her," the man's mustache twitched. "Don't you worry."

Edward shrugged and plopped down on the sand beside the man. "Hey, whatcha drawing? That's kinda good."

"Aw, I'm just doodling some," the man smiled as he talked, but his eyes didn't leave the little girl in the water. "You staying in one of these pretty houses over here?"

"I'm staying the whole summer with my uncle." Edward said proudly, and he gestured behind him at Pete's house. "I'm really from Chicago, Illinois, but I spend summers here. I flew all by myself this time, 'cause my dad didn't feel like coming this year. But he might come next year." Edward nodded, staring out at the waves. "He might come next year."

The man glanced over at Edward. "You flew all by yourself? How old are you?"

"I just turned seven a month ago. The airline says you gotta be eight, but my dad knows those people that make the rules, I guess. My dad knows _lots_ of important people." Edward couldn't stop looking at the man's drawing. Now he could see that it was of that girl, his daughter. "Man, that's really good. You're probably an artist for your job, huh. My dad's a doctor."

"That so?" The man's eyes crinkled at Edward a moment before he waved the little girl in. She dove under and Edward tensed for the several seconds it took for her to surface. Then she popped up out of the water and skipped up the shoreline, all sway-backed and elfin, her long dark hair streaming behind.

She stopped a few feet away from her father, just out of his arm's reach, in case she decided to make a run for it back to the water. "Daddy," she said simply, in a high and soft little voice. "Not ready yet."

Edward stared at the girl, a little fascinated. She looked like some kind of a mermaid girl, and he felt with sudden agonizing certainty that she knew his mom somehow. That the warm emerald water simply chose to unite some people, and not others. Edward loved swimming in the ocean, but he was never a part of it, like this girl was.

She leaned in toward Edward, gaping at his mouth. "My sister lost her teef too," she said, patting her lips. "Just one though, just one toof." She stared at him for a beat waiting for some sort of a response. When nothing was forthcoming she turned back to her father.

"Can I draw too?"

The man was signing his drawing. "How about in the car, Starfish?" He gazed at her, his contentment obvious.

"How old are you?" Edward blurted.

The little girl held up three damp fingers. "How old are _you?"_ She parroted back.

"He's lucky number seven," her dad said with a smile and a wink at Edward.

Edward scrambled to his feet when the man pulled himself up out of the sand. Suddenly their leaving was the last thing he wanted. "Are you going for real? Are you on a trip or something?"

"We're gonna visit my grandma in Walleezeeanna," the girl confided as the three of them walked up toward the dunes. She had a tight grip on her father, her whole hand wrapped around a single finger.

"Let's go find your mom and sissy, okay?" The man murmured. "Then you can change in the car and we'll hit the road."

"Wait! She can change in my bathroom, if she wants," Edward hopped up and down in the sand. "My house is right here. C'mon…" he held out a hand to the little mermaid girl, not sure why he wanted to take care of her but going with it just the same.

The girl immediately let go of her father's hand and gripped Edward's, surprising the man. He contemplated them a moment, bemused. "Alright then," he said gruffly, "I'll get her clothes and run them in to you. Be just a minute." And he gave a solemn nod to Edward, sizing him up, as if trusting the little girl to his care was an important thing, a thing not to be taken lightly.

"Yes sir," Edward nodded back, straightening his shoulders. He turned to the girl, intending to help her up the steps, since he was so big and she was just a baby.

"Quit," she said fiercely, "Imma big girl." And she pushed his hand away only to search for it again when they reached the top.

The man snorted as he turned to fetch her clothes.

Edward stopped her at the door. "Hold on," he said, "let me get you a towel, 'kay? You'll be cold if you come in all wet like that."

He ran full tilt to the laundry room, knowing the towel he wanted because he'd just folded them last night. Uncle Pete was a big believer in earning your keep. They didn't have any Ariel towels since he and Uncle Pete were boys, and mermaid towels weren't something boys had just lying around.

The one he had in mind though was blue striped, all turquoise, sky and navy with one beautiful bit of red running though. It was just like Ariel without being too girly. And it was perfect for her.

He wrapped it around her and led her inside and down the hallway, while Uncle Peter moved to meet the little girl's father at the door. He dropped to his knees and rubbed the towel over her head.

"You might know my Mama," he whispered in a rush, because he'd die if anyone else heard him say this. "She's a mermaid. Have you seen her?"

A look of adoration came over the girl's face, as she searched him for some sort of worthiness that she evidently found. "Maybe," she whispered back. "Is she pretty?"

"Oh, yes," Edward nodded adamantly. "And her eyes look like mine."

The girl reached up and patted his cheek, right beside his freckled nose. "Pretty," she smiled and cocked her head to the side. "You got green water eyes, like sunshine when it's sparkly, like when I can see all the way down to the bottom." She wrinkled her brow, searching for the words to show what she meant.

Edward swallowed, hard.

"I _have_ seen her," the girl said formally with a nod of the regal sort. "She's the queen because she's the beautifulist, and because she's the fastest swimmer."

"Yes," Edward breathed. "That must be her."

She leaned toward him conspiratorially, and whispered in his ear. "I'm not really a mermaid, but they say words to me some. She told me to tell you hi."

"When you come back, tell her…" he gulped, "tell her I miss her, okay? Just… tell her that." And they stared then, brown to water green, each recognizing something in the other that was indefinable, elusive, as hard to grasp as the most beautiful dream you yearn to remember minutes after you wake.

"I will," she murmured as she hugged him impulsively. "I'll come back. I promise."

He stood up as another girl walked through the doorway, one his age, or just about. Corn silk hair waved softly down her back. She smiled prettily at him, dimpling.

"Hi," she said brightly. "I'll help her get changed. I'm her sister."

Edward shrugged. "No problem," he said, feeling so much older than the little mermaid girl suddenly, and silly. He looked down but his striped towel had already grabbed her clothes, and was headed for the bathroom door.

"GO 'WAY," she shrieked at the bigger girl. "Don't need your help."

"Mama said to _help_ you," her sister snapped at her, stomping her foot.

At that, Edward slid back into the barroom, and fixed two lemonades to go, with just enough ice, and extra lemon slices.

* * *

><p>Later, as he played basketball by himself in the driveway, waiting on Mike's mom to pick him up to go to the movies, he realized he'd forgotten to ask the mermaid girl her name. He couldn't believe he hadn't asked that most important question… that <em>totally<em> outranked the question of how old you were.

"C'mon Edward!" Mike yelled from the window of his mom's van. "Mom said we gotta get our butts in gear if we want popcorn!"

Edward dropped the ball and pounded on the door to let Uncle Pete know he was going.

"Hi, Edward," Mike's mom smiled as she watched him buckle himself in. "Anything interesting happen today?"

"Nah," he replied. "Same old, same old." But he was quiet as they sped down the highway, thinking of all the blue stripes with the red, and the press of her fingers on his shoulder as the mermaid whispered in his ear.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN Walleezeeanna is Mermaid Girl's special way of saying Louisiana. **_

_**Thank you to **__**the Fandom4Storms crew for all the tremendous hard work needed to put this together.**_

_**Thank you to all the authors who contributed.**_

_**And thank you for reading, and if you donated, your support of this wonderful cause, so dear to my own heart.**_


	4. Bella, 2007

**If you haven't read to CHAPTER 31 of Firefly in Summer you won't understand this, I don't think. Go get caught up! **

**(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.·(¯`·._.· ·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)·._.·´¯)**

**There are clues here if you can read between the lines! **

**This is Bella, three years into her five year stint without Edward. She's going kind of crazy, missing him. Wouldn't you?**

**You guys are the best- Firefly in Summer was recommended for fic of the week over at The Lemonade Stand. Take a moment to vote, if you haven't already... you can choose up to four favorite fics from their list. It's such an awesome place to find great stories to read- new and old, WIPs and one-shots.**

**tehlemonadestand . blogspot . com**

**Lots of love to faireyfan and les16 as always. **

* * *

><p><em>2007<em>

"Sir."

"Bella, what a pleasant surprise! Come sit down." The professor hobbled over to the kettle to put on water. "Tea?"

"No, thank you." She fidgeted in the doorway.

"Come in, you're making an old man nervous." He pursed his lips, sorting through the tea bags. "Although…" he peered over the cabinet door, "if you've come in here to ask for an extension I'll whack you with my cane."

Finally, a laugh bubbled out of his favorite student. "I can move pretty fast, Professor."

"Yes, well…" he sighed, "it's all relative. I've become slower over the years. Next year you'll see me resort to throwing paintbrushes." He settled down in his leather chair. "I have to be able to frighten the students somehow, now don't I?"

"I'm fairly sure your reputation proceeds you, sir. We all compare emotional scars after the final evaluations." She took a tentative seat in a metal folding chair close to the door.

"Well, that's what I like to hear," the old man smiled. "But what do you need, dearheart? Surely you didn't stop by to inflate my ego more than it already is. And you must know by now you have your A." The professor always chose his words so carefully, like he was reading from prompts, an endless formal script in his head.

"I guess…" Bella sighed. "Maybe a favor."

"Yes?"

"I wanted… I just… can I participate in Chicago instead of New York?"

"Chicago?" he said in surprise. "Well, we're set up for the Met, Bella, you know that."

"I know George Harrod had his exhibit in L.A. a few years ago. Is there any way I could do-"

"He had a contact at the museum out there, dear. I think it was family," he said, frowning at her. "What's this about?" he asked softly, watching her shoulders slump.

She shook her head slightly, staring at her restless feet, bouncing to a nervous rhythm no one could hear but her. "Nothing," she mumbled. "A wild goose chase."

"I might be able to pull a few strings for a straight A student." Gently, he blew across his tea. Turned his head to thumb through his mail.

She sighed again and nodded, as if she'd expected his concession all along. "I'd like to use _Wanderer_ on my postcard. And I only need one. Well…" she bit her lip, smiling, "maybe two postcards. I'll tack one to my bulletin board."

The professor ignored the strange request for only a single mailing card, shocked by the fact she would consider selling the painting she'd hoarded ever since he'd met her, barely eighteen, ready to eat, sleep and breathe brushes, oils and turp. It had taken her a year to finish it. She definitely had his undivided attention now.

"I know you're well aware that what you'll take to the show will be for sale," he finally said. "Most especially what you put on your card." He waited for her to explain but she only nodded enigmatically, excusing herself politely, murmuring something about getting to class on time.

Bella had always seemed a bit lost, a bit melancholy, like she was waiting for something. Or someone. Maybe that someone was in Chicago. He'd puzzled over her before, her dedication to her craft commendable but very one-sided. He'd been afraid she'd burn herself out before she even had a chance to graduate. The professor blinked his eyes at the empty space where she'd been sitting. Isabella Swan had never asked him for anything. So he took one last sip and put his tea down, reaching for his address book.

* * *

><p><em>Two months later<em>

Now that she was here, she didn't know if she could keep the emotion off her face. What in the world had she been hoping to accomplish?

She moved to stand beside them, a little behind, gripping her short plastic cup of chardonnay with both hands. The tremors that shook her had grown throughout the evening, beginning with a jolt of fear when she'd seen that they had actually come to the show. She'd circled and circled like a vulture in a little black dress, until finally she was close enough to speak. This was the closest she'd been to _him_ since she'd freaked out and murdered her cell phone.

"See? I told you," the woman smiled up at the man, threading their arms together. "Don't you think so?"

"Well, it's hard to tell; his back is turned." The man stepped closer, then leaned back, the classic revolving pose of a self-proclaimed art connoisseur. "_Wanderer_," he murmured, reading the small plaque to the left. "Well, the artist certainly got his jaw right." He shrugged. "But I don't know if a jaw is worth what they're asking."

"Oh, I think so," Esme breathed. "Even if it didn't look like Edward, the colors… oh, I just love the style. Amazing. So bold and expressive." A pause, then, "I really miss him."

Carlisle dug in his pocket for his brochure. "Who is it again? Are they local?"

"It's a student, dear. Surely we should support a student?"

"Miss Swan… another glass of wine?"

Bella's eyes widened as she turned to face the man who served as the liaison between the Art Institute and her school. Even as she tried to step back discreetly, the damage had been done. She was such a fool.

"Swan?" Esme Cullen said to herself. "Oh, please pardon me for interrupting," she said a little louder. She spared a small glance for Mr. Biers then honed in on the pale girl off to the side. "Are you the artist?"

Goosebumps broke out over her skin. She'd created this very situation; masterminded it really, the least she could do was buck up and act like the grown-up she pretended to be.

"Yes," she replied smoothly, if a little too quietly. She cleared her throat. "Yes ma'am, I'm the artist."

Esme Cullen cocked her head at Bella as if she were a riddle that begged to be solved. Pretty girl, a student, no obvious ties to Chicago or the Gulf Coast, seemingly four years Edward's junior, if the small bio in the brochure was to be believed. So how did she know Edward well enough to capture him so profoundly? It wasn't just the angular line of his jaw as he looked away into the sunset, although it was remarkably like his. Rather the girl had caught the essence of _him_, the way he carried his body while deep in thought, the downward slope of his shoulder, the slant of his forearm as he held one hand casually in his pocket. His air of sadness despite the vibrant colors of the paint was delicate… understated. Masterful. She'd painted a portrait of a man looking mournfully off into the distance, his face mostly hidden. But Esme would know her stepson anywhere. Besides, the unusual color of his tousled hair was a dead giveaway.

Just who was this girl?

"I was just admiring your painting; it's absolutely stunning."

"Thank you," Bella answered graciously, eyes flitting nervously between Esme and Carlisle.

"And you're an art student from Savannah?

"Yes ma'am. This is my last year."

"I see."

There was a beat of silence in which Esme Cullen looked fairly expectant for some sort of revelation that was not exactly forthcoming. Mr. Biers sighed internally. Young artists never knew how to draw a patron out, how to endear themselves and their work to a potential buyer. Miss Swan, although exquisite in her elegance and beauty, resembled something like a deer in headlights right about now.

"Miss Swan has quite the following in the more southern states. I understand that several galleries in Atlanta have offered to show her work… isn't that correct Miss Swan?" Mr. Biers prompted, to little avail. He turned back to Esme. "We are very lucky to have her here in Chicago for this evening. The only student from Savannah," he murmured, smiling back at Bella benevolently.

Esme's eyes narrowed at the way he looked at the girl.

Carlisle stepped forward. "We'd like to purchase the painting from Miss Swan," he said in a confident tone. He was tiring of all the back and forth and pussyfooting around. He knew what his wife wanted to know. Hell, he wanted to know too. "But we had some questions as to the identity of the model. Was this painted from life?"

All eyes turned to the artist, who got even paler, if that was possible. Bella shifted minutely and then tapped her temple with her finger.

"Just in my head," she smiled weakly. She hoped desperately that the group would accept her answer at face value and not attempt to delve further. Her voice was fighting a losing battle with the unspoken depth of emotion gripping her throat.

Because that was the goddamned depressing truth, now wasn't it? That was all Edward was to her now.

A beautiful painting.

A memory in her head.

In her mouth, his taste, her eyes, that saw him everywhere, her skin, every inch alive, tingling with his knowing touch. And her heart. Her heart that broke and healed itself again and again with each passing of a new year.

Esme was kissing her husband on the cheek. "Thank you darling! Will you bring another glass of wine on your way back from arranging everything?"

"Of course," Carlisle murmured, coming around her other side to shake Bella's hand. "Miss Swan, it's been a pleasure. Lovely work."

He walked off with Mr. Biers, who was talking animatedly, thrilled at the easiness of the sale. Bella's insides swarmed with a curious mix of anxiousness, elation and disbelief that she had actually sold _that_ painting. She'd be adrift without it in her apartment.

"Let me show you something," Esme Cullen said while rummaging in her tiny evening pocketbook, sending Bella's heart into high gear when she triumphantly pulled out a photograph.

A _picture_… of _Edward!_ It was an unexpected gift. She'd only dreamed of getting close enough to his parents so she could somehow feel him. And of course she'd wanted them to have the painting. She would have given it to them for free. She'd actually said goodbye to it… sort of a, _you're going to a good home. I'll see you again, someday…_

Bella held her hands behind her back; afraid the trembling in her fingers would expose this bizarre ruse she'd concocted. Worst case scenario was that Esme thought Bella was a creepy stalker, fixated on her stepson. Best case scenario? Esme would assume she was another love struck girl that Edward had forgotten. Oh wait…

"Please," Esme murmured, wiggling it somewhat impatiently between them. "I may have another one in my wallet."

"Sure," she said, holding a corner delicately between her thumb and index finger.

_Pull up your big-girl panties, Bella. It's only a picture._

"It's a remarkable likeness, wouldn't you agree?" 

"It is… I mean, yes," she stammered, staring at the little rectangle of paper in her hand, not daring to lift her head just yet. Edward looked… happy. She had no frame of reference for the picture… but oh, it was _him_. And she _wished_ that was all that mattered. Because there was a pretty blonde girl in the picture with him. Flashing an engagement ring.

She was going to be sick.

"No more," Esme said, giving up, turning her attention back to Bella. "I know he's dressed like a dirty construction worker in that picture but that was during the cleanup after the hurricane. Not Katrina… although he helped during that one too- this one is from Ivan."

Bella nodded, swallowing down her dinner for the second time. "Ivan hit the Gulf Coast."

"That's right," Esme said. She looked at the picture and traced Edward's face with her thumb. "He was so sure that his little town down there wouldn't take a direct hit. And he was right. It was the craziest thing. And Katrina-"

"Mrs. Cullen? Is he—I mean to say, he looks happy." Bella held the picture out to her like it was burning her hand.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Esme said softly, tucking the photo back in her purse. "Sometimes I wonder. And now I see that there's a lot he hasn't told me." She looked at Bella shrewdly. She hadn't told the girl her name and yet she'd called her 'Mrs. Cullen'. "How does Edward know you, Isabella?"

"He doesn't." A small voice, full of tears that had already been cried a million times over.

But he will, Bella vowed to herself. _He will._

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 32 of Firefly will be up on Friday. No Bella in that one, just Edward. Thanks for being so patient. :)<strong>


	5. Breakfast in Colorado

**This outtake mirrors the last part of chapter 30, "Bridge" of Firefly in Summer. Shan and Edward's conversation after Bella runs to the gift shop.**

* * *

><p><em>June 2004, Colorado<em>**  
><strong>

Dr. Shan asked a lot of questions. Edward supposed that was all part of being a scientist, being prepared, looking at things from every angle and all that.

"Is everything all right?" Tina asked, sweeping by grandly, her eyes missing nothing.

Edward grinned into his pancakes when the professor blushed. He looked over at Bella so Shan could have his moment. "Bacon?" he murmured, kissing her fingertips.

"Thank you," she smiled. He decided she still looked distracted though. What was spinning around in that head of hers?

"Let me explain in a different way," Shan continued, all business again.

"Sure." He looked back up, still holding onto Bella's fingers, hoping she didn't mind eating one-handed. Had he ever been such a sap before? That would be a big, fat _No_.

"Events will naturally fall into place, just as they were meant to be. Just because you've altered the trajectory of Bella's path doesn't mean that your Mrs. Cope will suddenly begin baking cakes instead of pies.

"Right, I get it," Edward laughed.

"I think I'll have to come to Summerside one of these days. I do love a good chess pie. Do you think she makes those?"

"Oh, I'm sure she'd be delighted."

"Excellent. And you mentioned your friend the football player."

"Emmett."

"Yes. His injury… how will this impact the rest of his life…"

"I guess," Edward said, growing despondent. "I never meant for that to happen, I never-"

"It's not your fault, Edward. His future is unwritten, all our futures are unwritten. It is in our moments of decision that our destinies are created. Your friend Emmett is creating his own destiny with his own unique decisions. Besides, fate has a way of filling in the gaps. The butterfly effect can be a little dramatic, to be honest. Just because you changed the lives of a few people doesn't necessarily mean the world is coming to an end."

"God, I hope not." He frowned at Bella, who was picking at something with strawberries with a blank look on her face. "But yeah… I understand what you're saying. Recalculating."

"Precisely. In all likelihood, this new history will be remarkably similar to the first one you experienced. You say you met Bella in Summerside in February 2008? I wouldn't be surprised if that's where you "meet" her again."

Edward's eyes flashed. "But I don't _want_ to-"

"Dr Shan?" Bella interrupted, looking quite determined. She squeezed and molded her napkin, searching for just the right words. "Just… can you explain something to me? Edward's… body didn't time travel, right?" She turned to Edward. "You woke up in a body that was five years younger… it was your mind that traveled. Right? Edward?"

Edward's heart sank. "Right," he said grimly. He suddenly knew what she wanted, and he'd have given anything for it to work out like that. But she didn't understand. Hell, he hardly understood it. Frustration gnawed at his insides because he was going to have to break her heart explaining it as best he could.

"So if that's true, then when your mind goes forward in time, back to 2009, your younger self will be left behind." She smiled at him, pleased. "Don't you see? We can be together from the beginning. I know you said it wasn't our time—but we can make it our time, Edward. I'll go to Dartmouth with you… I don't know what kind of art program they have but—you know what? I don't even have to go into art. I can do whatever. I can wait tables to put myself through… I can-"

"Bella… Miss Swan, I'm afraid it won't work like that." Shan leaned across the table anxiously. His eyes darted to Edward. "Granted, Edward is the first legitimate case of time travel I've had the opportunity to study, but if my theory holds…"

"If your theory holds… what?" she asked softly

"If it all happens like I expect it to…"

"I won't remember you, Bella." Edward butted in, hating himself as the light in her eyes died. "I won't remember these days… with you. Anything at all. It'll be like… lost time. I won't remember you until the day I go back, five years from now."

Bella's eyes filled with tears.

He tried to pull her to him but she wouldn't come. "When I go back to 2009," he said softly, "it should be spontaneous for me. It'll be like falling asleep at night and waking in the morning." He sighed, kissing her fingers, the only part of her she'd let him have right now. "It will take five years for you to catch up."

"I have to go," she mumbled.

He was torn in half, watching her leave, holding himself halfway in and out of his chair like an idiot. He couldn't let their last day be colored with this. Well, it would, it was unavoidable, but he would distract her if he could.

"Unless you deliberately tell her to stay away, I think it's quite possible that you will cross paths before your five years is up." Shan pursed his lips at Edward, rubbing his chin. "You don't like the idea of not knowing her, I can see that. You'd like her to wait at least until after the day you travel back, yes? Somewhere around June 2009?"

"This is so fucked up, doc," he moaned, holding his head in his hands. "It feels so out of control. Yeah, I want her to wait. Because, what if…" he swallowed, hard. "What if I mess up somehow during the five years… I mean, anything could happen. I want to make sure everything's perfect before I bring her back into my life. Does that make sense?"

"What are you afraid of?" Shan asked honestly. "Inaction breeds fear and doubt. Let's list them out, see if we can solve some of them.

"Okay," he answered slowly. "I was… working in New York when my Uncle Peter died. New York was a mistake for me, I see that now. And I regret not even… I mean, I was so caught up with myself that I'd almost lost touch completely with my uncle when he died. It was a huge shock. I wish I had been there. I should have been there."

Shan listened, compassion warming his eyes. He stirred his coffee. "Yes, yes, all right, next?"

"Um…" Edward hesitated. He felt bewildered. "My friend Emmett. What if he mentions that night to me and I know nothing about it? He won't understand that. I won't remember meeting Rose and- and she's Bella's sister… what if I see them all again and I don't-"

"How many times did you see your friend Emmett after that… rather, this summer? You went back to school, correct?"

"Yeah. I did. We grew apart. It just sort of… happened."

"What makes you think that will change?"

"I guess it won't," Edward sighed, looking vaguely relieved.

"Next?" Shan asked with an amused look.

"Okay, I'm afraid I'll be involved with another girl during those years. What if Bella sees me like that? I don't—that can't happen."

"Were you involved with someone in New York when your uncle died?"

"No."

"What about when you came to Summerside?"

"No… well, there was Bella…"

"There's no reason to believe that you'll be married off out of the blue, unless you alter your future dramatically, causing yourself to meet new people. If you do that, then…" Shan shrugged," who knows?"

"You're not inspiring a lot of confidence, Doc," he sighed, glancing toward the doors where Bella had disappeared. "How exactly would I be able to alter my future so dramatically, anyway?"

"You could make a video of yourself explaining certain things," Shan explained. "You could write yourself a letter."

"How very Back to the Future," Edward said dryly. "But isn't that dangerous? That's dangerous, to—to have evidence, like a video, talking about future events, right?"

They paused to sip china cups of coffee, and Edward's eyes continuously roved toward the double doors. Surely she wouldn't leave. Where would she go?

"To be honest, Edward," Shan began, "I doubt very much that you'll be able to prevent the death of your uncle." He peered at him closely. "On the other hand, with proactive measures, you may be able to extend his life, be there with him, if that was a large regret of yours."

"So I'd write myself a letter… telling myself not to go to New York. Maybe telling myself to get Pete to the doctor." Edward spoke slowly, weighing his words. "I don't see how I'd believe any of that, Doc. There's no way."

"Edward, you have the unique opportunity of knowing how the next five years will unfold, world wide. You know if President Bush will be reelected in the fall, for example."

Edward looked stupefied then his face twisted momentarily. "Yeah, I guess I do know things." For a moment his eyes were far away.

"You've got to understand that the next five years will not change all that much unless you deliberately influence them. If you do nothing, then it's almost one hundred percent likely that you will finish with your degree, graduate, go on to New York, and come to Summerside when your uncle passes away."

"Bella won't be there," Edward said strongly. "She can't."

"Why? She was there before."

"I'll demand that she stay away. She can't be there on that day because I won't know to stop her."

"What day?" Shan prompted softly. "Stop her from what?"

Edward felt a sudden chill. "Valentine's Day 2009. The morning she died in the ocean. She can't be there, Dr. Shan," he insisted, as the blood drained from his face. "I know I changed things, but what if… what if she comes looking for me… what if she came back to Summerside because of _me_. That can't be her day. It can't. What if I haven't really changed anything at all?"

"She knows, Edward," Shan responded calmly, shaking his head. "You told me she knows how it happened. She'll be aware. If that is indeed her day, then it will happen another way. And again, I'm not sure you could do anything about it. I'm sorry, my friend."

"I should go," Edward mumbled, suddenly desperate to see her. "Thanks doc. You've given me a lot to think about."

They stood and shook hands.

"As have you, Edward. As have you."


End file.
